


FM

by TotallyNotInACult



Category: Original Work
Genre: Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallyNotInACult/pseuds/TotallyNotInACult
Summary: The Americas are no more. Nuclear explosion wiped out most, if not, all of the American west. Reaching from the southern tip of Mexico to the north of the Rockies and east as far as the Mississippi, civilization is dead. Everyone either burned up, starved, dehydrated, or fled far away. So, what remains of the new New World?





	1. Prologue

Arizona used to be nice. At least, as nice as it could be, being made up of dry desert. It was practically already a wasteland. The ground was lacking water and vegetation, yet life continued on just fine in Phoenix and its surrounding settlements.

One resident, whomst is referred to as John Doe (although his real name was John Mathers), was an employee at the Palo Verde nuclear generation plant, and was, at this moment, taking a short nap at his post. Unbeknownst to him, his "short nap" had lasted most of his shift and the clock was pushing three. A men's magazine lay open on his lap to an article about grilling. His greasy baseball cap loosely hung from his equally greasy head and shaded his eyes from the bright fluorescent bulbs embedded in the ceiling above him. Legs crossed at the ankles were propped on a dull gray desk that overlooked a large set of labeled buttons and switches that chose which security footage to display to the man currently asleep. Every now and then his foot would twitch and his boot would flip the monitor between "Camera 1" and "Camera 2." Currently, he was supposedly viewing Camera 2 which oversaw the building's front parking lot. A twitch of his toe and now he was supposedly monitoring the cafeteria.

The sudden screaming of alarms and bright lights awoke him.

John's legs thrashed, panicked and delirious, and spilled what was once hot, but now was cold coffee across the desk and he watched in slow-motion as it poured onto the controls, plaguing the clean air with bright sparks and puffy black smoke.

"Shit, shit,  _ shit, _ " he fell ass first off his wheely chair, and scrambled to get up.

His hat had fallen off his face and could no longer assist with the lights. The magazine also lay on the floor, now open to a different page displaying a considerably beautiful woman in a bikini with her breasts on full display.

Once he was on his feet, his head raced to put together what the  _ fuck  _ was going on. Alarms and lights. Loud alarms. Very loud. Very bright lights. Lots of flashing. Flashing. Flashing  _ red _ . Red was never good, was it? Flashing red and loud, very loud, alarms. Something was very, very wrong.

His stomach dropped and a lead weight filled his chest. He felt very light on his feet as he scampered to the metal door leading out of the cramped surveillance room. The main thought on his mind was to get the hell out of that room. Struggling to turn the handle, he realized the door was security-locked shut. In just two steps he was back at the control panel scanning it to find the emergency door-release. Once found, he must have pushed the button fifty times until the sparks burnt his hand and he had to pull away, sucking on his grimy fingers.

No, no, no, no, no. This wasn't happening to him, was it?

Back at the door, he banged and banged and banged his fists in hope that  _ someone _ would help him. Multiple sets of heavy footsteps raced past his door, likely paying no mind to his rapid banging. At one point, he thought he heard a set slow down and hesitate outside before they took off again down the corridor.

Muffled shouts and curses were almost unheard through the alarms and pounding, but between his bruising fists hitting the metal, he made out, "Fuck," "Goddamnit," "No hope," "It's gonna blow," " _ We're all gonna die. _ "

John, now in tears, weakly punched at the merciless metal. Salty streams of water flowed down his cheeks, into his mouth, and gathered at the dimple in his chin where they then puddled onto the glossy floor. He brought his knees to his chest in a fetal position while his open palm slapped hopelessly.

\---

Somewhere in the building, a man of higher authority notified the president at the White House.

"Get to the bunker," he said.

"Bring the boy with you."


	2. In progress

Filler text until it's done:)


End file.
